firefly thoughts, keeping me awake.
lightning bug summer, wishing to stay.
thunder is rumbling, the night is calm.
the heaven's tears hit the rooftops, in rhythm with my own.
saying goodbye, is not something I do.
I'd rather you kiss my eyes, while I say "see you soon."
see you soon.
lost in an uncharted sea.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Saturday, May 26, 2012
twenty two/severely jumbled thoughts
"when I was nineteen, I wish I had..."
I never want those words to escape my mouth.
I only want to remember being young, so young, and reckless.
reckless.
unconcerned with the consequence of some action.
abandoning all caution.
living unbridled.
that all looks so foolish, but that's the magic of youth, I think.
it's not that we are beyond making mistakes.
we make many more mistakes than most people in the world.
I think a true liver knows deep down that the mistakes made in youth eventually turn into the reason they become "older and wiser."
so nineteen year old me, here's my advice to you:
live and love recklessly, always with truth and light on your mind.
you won't regret it.
I never want those words to escape my mouth.
I only want to remember being young, so young, and reckless.
reckless.
unconcerned with the consequence of some action.
abandoning all caution.
living unbridled.
that all looks so foolish, but that's the magic of youth, I think.
it's not that we are beyond making mistakes.
we make many more mistakes than most people in the world.
I think a true liver knows deep down that the mistakes made in youth eventually turn into the reason they become "older and wiser."
so nineteen year old me, here's my advice to you:
live and love recklessly, always with truth and light on your mind.
you won't regret it.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
questions
Why do I believe in God, this week, today, this month, this year, this season of my life?
What do I want the most? Why?
What do I fear the most? Why?
What do I want the most? Why?
What do I fear the most? Why?
Sunday, May 20, 2012
a thought.
I love summer Sundays.
Summer Sundays when you get home from a sunny church service, all air-conditioned and cold, and talk over the beautiful truths heard with your father about your Father.
Summer Sundays when you open your bedroom window after lunch and climb into bed with a good book. You read until the words muddle together and lazy, sleepy thoughts enter your head. Soft thunder sounds outside and grey clouds begin to occupy the sky. You pull your blanket closer to your face, mark your place in your book, and rest.
Summer Sundays when you wake up in the late afternoon to the the sound of light rain hitting the roof. You wash your face, make some tea, and drive to church again with the windows down to sit with an intimate little group in the large wooden sanctuary.
Summer Sundays when a teacher's voice fills the echoey hall while the sun sets slowly. The sky's a faint blue. The air is cool and damp, perfumed by the earth and the rain.
Summer Sundays when the twilight is spent picking raspberries and listening. Listening to the songs of little creatures in the woods. Listening to the secret whisperings of the green trees. Listening to the pulse of the cool blades of grass beneath your bare feet.
Summer Sundays when Monday is looking anything but blue.
Summer Sundays when you get home from a sunny church service, all air-conditioned and cold, and talk over the beautiful truths heard with your father about your Father.
Summer Sundays when you open your bedroom window after lunch and climb into bed with a good book. You read until the words muddle together and lazy, sleepy thoughts enter your head. Soft thunder sounds outside and grey clouds begin to occupy the sky. You pull your blanket closer to your face, mark your place in your book, and rest.
Summer Sundays when you wake up in the late afternoon to the the sound of light rain hitting the roof. You wash your face, make some tea, and drive to church again with the windows down to sit with an intimate little group in the large wooden sanctuary.
Summer Sundays when a teacher's voice fills the echoey hall while the sun sets slowly. The sky's a faint blue. The air is cool and damp, perfumed by the earth and the rain.
Summer Sundays when the twilight is spent picking raspberries and listening. Listening to the songs of little creatures in the woods. Listening to the secret whisperings of the green trees. Listening to the pulse of the cool blades of grass beneath your bare feet.
Summer Sundays when Monday is looking anything but blue.
Friday, May 18, 2012
twenty one
a tiny sting shoots through me as I touch my shoulders.
today I was simply kissed all over by the powerful sun.
an overwhelming warmth is pumped through my weak veins.
golden light drips down my eyelids and lingers on my lashes.
today I was simply held in the arms of the flirtatious wind.
he tugged at my hair and played with the hem of my dress.
I had quite a grand day, with my two lovers.
all the red on my shoulders is but the blush of my cheeks, a bit migrated perhaps.
perhaps dear, perhaps.
today I was simply kissed all over by the powerful sun.
an overwhelming warmth is pumped through my weak veins.
golden light drips down my eyelids and lingers on my lashes.
today I was simply held in the arms of the flirtatious wind.
he tugged at my hair and played with the hem of my dress.
I had quite a grand day, with my two lovers.
all the red on my shoulders is but the blush of my cheeks, a bit migrated perhaps.
perhaps dear, perhaps.
Monday, May 14, 2012
tossed hair, broken loves
dried flowers hanging from my window sill,
reminding me that I'm alive and well
if you give me your hand to hold,
I won't refuse it.
but if you give me your affection,
I swear, I'll just lose it.
forgive me for being cursed,
for I'm a daughter of Eve.
you can try to fix me,
but I can only love brokenly.
I am prone to getting things wrong
and not seeing things through.
if you can stand by this mess,
then I will try to love you.
you toss your hair,
the sun doesn't care,
so please put your hand in mine.
you assure me that you're a broken little boy.
so with our fractured hearts let's try to find joy.
reminding me that I'm alive and well
if you give me your hand to hold,
I won't refuse it.
but if you give me your affection,
I swear, I'll just lose it.
forgive me for being cursed,
for I'm a daughter of Eve.
you can try to fix me,
but I can only love brokenly.
I am prone to getting things wrong
and not seeing things through.
if you can stand by this mess,
then I will try to love you.
you toss your hair,
the sun doesn't care,
so please put your hand in mine.
you assure me that you're a broken little boy.
so with our fractured hearts let's try to find joy.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
reactionary
As the quiet rain is falling, I am surrounded by the fragrance of Earl Grey tea and scones baking in the oven.
Nothing could be lovelier.
As it is Mother's Day, you would think I would be sharing thoughts on mothers and how dear they are and how we cannot exist without them. While all of that is true, that's really not what's on my mind.
The other day my mom and I were having a discussion. That sounds like a way to disguise a fight, but we really were just discussing things. Disagreeing on some things, agreeing on others. It's kind of a normal happening.
Anyway, we were talking about how humans, just like anything else in the world, are generally reactionary. Especially when it comes to my generation's thoughts on the church, reactions could not play a bigger part.
Newton's law of motion (roughly... I learned it in middle school) states that for every action there is an equal or opposite reaction.
Humankind generally follows this law. We, like time, are always in motion, even when we feel we are stagnating. Generally, children raised in strict church environments do one of two things: they abandon the church, or they follow faithfully in their parents footsteps. I say generally, because there are some exceptions to the "law". Children raised in loose churches or a non-church environment tend to reach out for more structure, or stay the same as always. So often, the reactions are largely said to be to the "church". In truth, the youth are reacting to the sinfulness of man (found everywhere) and the ultimate authority God has over our lives. I find this pattern in my own life and in my own heart. C.S. Lewis nails this human condition when he describes himself: "what mattered most of all was my deep-seated hatred of authority, my monstrous individualism, my lawlessness (Surprised by Joy, 171)." Our reactions are almost always dictated by our own or other's actions. Especially when Christ isn't involved, this sense of reactionism becomes heightened.
Why does this matter? Well, our reactionary nature makes it ever more wonderful that we don't serve a reactionary God. He reacts, yes. But His reactions are neither completely "equal or opposite". They're uniquely perfect and Holy, "faithful and just". He sees our sin and is not surprised. He sees the Son who died and loves us deeply because of the Son's bloodshed. His reaction is barely what's defined as a reaction, it's more like a positive reaction.
What a breathtaking picture of how God defies laws of man. Sorry Newton, you couldn't hold Him in.
Nothing could be lovelier.
As it is Mother's Day, you would think I would be sharing thoughts on mothers and how dear they are and how we cannot exist without them. While all of that is true, that's really not what's on my mind.
The other day my mom and I were having a discussion. That sounds like a way to disguise a fight, but we really were just discussing things. Disagreeing on some things, agreeing on others. It's kind of a normal happening.
Anyway, we were talking about how humans, just like anything else in the world, are generally reactionary. Especially when it comes to my generation's thoughts on the church, reactions could not play a bigger part.
Newton's law of motion (roughly... I learned it in middle school) states that for every action there is an equal or opposite reaction.
Humankind generally follows this law. We, like time, are always in motion, even when we feel we are stagnating. Generally, children raised in strict church environments do one of two things: they abandon the church, or they follow faithfully in their parents footsteps. I say generally, because there are some exceptions to the "law". Children raised in loose churches or a non-church environment tend to reach out for more structure, or stay the same as always. So often, the reactions are largely said to be to the "church". In truth, the youth are reacting to the sinfulness of man (found everywhere) and the ultimate authority God has over our lives. I find this pattern in my own life and in my own heart. C.S. Lewis nails this human condition when he describes himself: "what mattered most of all was my deep-seated hatred of authority, my monstrous individualism, my lawlessness (Surprised by Joy, 171)." Our reactions are almost always dictated by our own or other's actions. Especially when Christ isn't involved, this sense of reactionism becomes heightened.
Why does this matter? Well, our reactionary nature makes it ever more wonderful that we don't serve a reactionary God. He reacts, yes. But His reactions are neither completely "equal or opposite". They're uniquely perfect and Holy, "faithful and just". He sees our sin and is not surprised. He sees the Son who died and loves us deeply because of the Son's bloodshed. His reaction is barely what's defined as a reaction, it's more like a positive reaction.
What a breathtaking picture of how God defies laws of man. Sorry Newton, you couldn't hold Him in.
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